Savior
by AlxM
Summary: AU. Based on the episode 'Lady of the Lake' — Arthur saves a special young boy, a sorcerer and a slave, from the hands of a Bounty Hunter and hides him in the caves beneath the castle. From there on, their friendship grows, and Arthur begins to learn that, perhaps, everything he had been taught about magic might not all be the truth. No slash. Merlin and Arthur bromance.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **'Lady of the Lake' is one of my most favorite episodes, as it was the introduction of Freylin, which in my opinion, is the most beautiful romantic pairing ever. *grins* I think there is no love story more amazing than theirs. Maybe it's because I'm more bromance-oriented than romance-oriented so I don't know many, but it's the best one I've ever known.

I was watching the episode again the other day, overcome with feels (my heart still does weird things thinking about them), and I suddenly wanted some kind of Merlin-Arthur bromance version of it. And so, this story was born. *smile* I hope you enjoy it! There is major friendship ahead, and it is focused on their bromance more than anything.

* * *

**Chapter One**

He huddled into himself as the cold air bit his skin and seeped into his muscles and bones, leaching out all the heat from his emaciated body. But the action wasn't enough to fight off the harsh winter, and his ragged and torn clothes weren't much help either.

He watched as his current master, Master Halig, sneered at him with disgust, and he flinched back, looking down at his arms on top of his knees and pressing further into the dark corner of the cage, and prayed for him to leave soon. He didn't want to be beaten or whipped, or told that he was worth nothing and he was born to be a slave. He didn't want to be called a monster, a curse upon this Earth, someone who'd never be loved because of what he was.

He knew why he was here. He knew this was the end of his journey, of his life as a slave. The end of his life itself. He was going to be sold here, to the King of Camelot, and his master would receive a handsome reward for the capture of a sorcerer. Even more so, a sorcerer such as _him_. And then, he was going to be executed. Killed.

Perhaps there was a part of him that was relieved at the prospect of death, after all these years of gaining nothing but torment and agony and sorrow and despair. But the other side of him still wished, still hoped for a better life. For a life where he was normal, loved and cared for by someone, and with people he loved as well. He wanted to be back at home, in Ealdor, living with his mother who was only mere pieces of memories in his mind.

Most of all, he just wanted to be loved.

But he knew there was no one in this world who would ever do so. He was a monster. A curse upon this Earth. He was worthless. Nothing. And to think that anyone could ever feel something for him would be foolish.

He had long since made peace with death, believing it to be better than the life he lived. Anyone would believe the same. The life of slavery and of someone who had magic was cruel and brutal, and the world was merciless and unforgiving towards all of them. There was little cause to hope for a reason to come along and make him want to keep fighting.

The yells of an authoritative and firm voice startled him out of his dark, inner thoughts. And he flinched violently, swallowing hard, and then slowly raised his head and glanced up at the scene.

"Search the citadel!" the man barked, waving an arm around while his hand rested on his sword. "The thief must be found! The items he stole were valuable goods! He must not get away!"

The man had blonde hair that glinted like the rays of the sun in the dark, eyes that were as beautiful and blue as the sea. He moved with an air of confidence and strength, with honour and nobility, back and shoulders straight and head held high.

There was another man with him. Tall and curly-haired, right alongside him as they ran about, with a similar, but a bit more inferior, air.

. . .

A small part of his mind registered the cage, but the rest was too focused on finding the thief, his head whipping in all directions as his sharp eyes searched all the places with the utmost concentration and attention, his body swinging and twisting left and right.

He began heading towards the tavern of The Rising Sun. It didn't seem like the worst place to hide. Crowded with full of people and noisy with chatter.

But just as he passed by the horse-cart, he startled slightly, barely restraining the small gasp that almost burst out from him, as a young boy jumped out towards him from inside the cage, the fingers of his manacled hands wrapping around the iron bars of the cage. His raven-black hair was long, curling slightly behind his prominent ears, and his large, doe blue eyes stared at him, drawing him in.

And for some reason, he couldn't look away.

"I suppose the Bounty Hunter is here, then," Sir Leon commented. "You know of the King's policy to offer a generous reward to those who capture sorcerers and bring them to him."

Arthur couldn't move. Couldn't think. It almost felt like those eyes were holding him in one place, trapping him, and stealing his ability to do _anything_. And he couldn't understand why.

"Sire?" Leon asked, his tone concerned at his lack of response.

Arthur shook his head out of the strange trance, and nodded quickly. "Yes, I know."

There was something inside him, telling him. Begging him. _Screaming_ at him to save the boy.

Maybe it was the feeling of _wrong_ there. The way his small, raw wrists were shackled in such a way, the way his clothes were tattered and shredded and barely covering much skin, his sunken face covered in grime and bruises and dried blood, the fragility of his visible bones poking through the thin, ragged shirt hanging on him, and the vulnerability of the inexplicable emotions that were brimming in the huge, desperate eyes boring into him. Maybe it was the plea in his devastated blue orbs, or maybe it was his own protective instincts that rose every time he saw a person such as him.

He'd never know.

"Sire?" Leon said, and it seemed as if it wasn't the first time he had been calling for him.

"Yes. Yes, of course," Arthur answered, looking at him. "We must find the thief."

As he walked away, the boy's gaze followed him, never leaving him.

. . .

The thief was caught and imprisoned, and the knights had all left for their night of sleep.

Yet, Arthur still felt like there was something weighing on him. Something he needed to do. And he couldn't sleep, because the face of that broken boy kept appearing in his mind, the image of him most probably out there in the cold, with little clothes and no layers on his body to protect him from it, manacled and beaten and skinny—

He forced himself to remember that he was a sorcerer, and closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

And yet, the feelings never eased.

And an hour later, he still found himself awake.

. . .

He snuck out into the dark night, the stars beaming down at him, almost as if praising him for his decision.

He spotted the cage near the tavern again, the same place it was last seen. And he made his way over, while the dredges of doubt roused in his head.

This boy was a sorcerer. He had magic. He could be dangerous, a killer. Someone who could attack him as soon as he was released (even if his appearance opposed such behavior). So, would it be right to do this?

His footsteps stopped in front of the cage, his chest slightly heavy. It was certainly freezing out here, his trembling breaths coming out in mists as the chilled air touched his skin through his expensive clothes, causing him to shudder in reaction even despite the jacket he was wearing, his nose growing numb with inhalation of the crisp wintery atmosphere.

The boy's head remained lowered, apparently unaware of his presence. Arthur licked his lips and glanced at the tavern for a few seconds, before moving towards the building, opening the door and discreetly peeking in, his gaze wandering until it settled on the man he believed to be the Bounty Hunter. By the looks of it, he must be planning on staying at least until midnight here, which gave him enough time to take the boy away and hide him somewhere no one could find him.

The smell of ale filtered in through his senses, the warm air inside tempting him to come in and spend a few moments there, at least until the discomforting cold was chased away from his body.

But he turned away and closed the door behind him, striding towards the confinement containing the young boy who had been haunting his sleep and keeping him from peace and rest.

His lips curled in a grimace of displeasure as he caught sight of the lock hanging on the door, and he hoped the key was somewhere around _here_ and not with the Bounty Hunter. He searched throughout the cart, all the while shooting glances at the door of the tavern as if expecting the Bounty Hunter to emerge any minute.

There was nothing.

He gave one look towards the tavern again, before closing his eyes and heaving a large sigh, hoping that the loud chaos inside would be enough to keep the sounds from reaching the Hunter's ears. And then he opened his eyes, pursed his lips and grasped the hilt of his sword, sliding it out from its sheath, and then wrapped his other hand around it as well, and he slowly raised it high.

Before bringing it down on the lock in one swift _whoosh_.

The lock fell open.

And he grinned to himself in pride.

Arthur opened the cage, and that was when the boy acknowledged him, his head jerking up from his knees and looking at him, and then his eyes widened as they landed on him, his arms sliding off, palms flat on the ground, as he began backing away from the supposed threat.

"I won't hurt you," Arthur reassured him with placating hands lifted up, before lowering them down as he threw another glance at the tavern. He faced him again and climbed up into the cage. "Lift your hands."

The boy peered at him hesitantly, swallowing fearfully, his prominent throat bobbing visibly.

"Just do it!" Arthur whispered furiously at him, looking at the door once again.

And then he obeyed, tentatively reaching his hands up, eyes clenched shut as his head bowed down.

With one snap, the chains broke free.

Arthur grabbed his skinned, bony wrist. "Now, run," he said, pulling him along as he jumped out first, and then helped him down with an arm around him.

The door of the tavern clicked open, and in the shadows, the two figures were seen running away.

. . .

Arthur tugged him through the dark tunnels until he found a spot stretching out a wide clear area.

"You'll be safe here," he told him, turning around to face him once he examined the place and deemed it decent. "I promise."

"Why did you help me?" the boy asked quietly, his voice an almost inaudible mumble, as he hugged his bony arms around himself, his head still ducked down to stare at his own feet.

Arthur's mouth tightened at the question, wondering how he could explain that seeing him in such a state stirred a strong feeling of protectiveness like never before, and that even though helping him escape from that cage went against everything he had ever been taught, there was nothing that had ever felt more right.

_Almost like destiny_.

"I..." He paused, clearing his throat, and inhaled and lifted his chin. "I don't always agree with what the King does... even if I can scarcely stop him."

The boy shyly peeked through his fringe of black hair at those words, swallowing slightly.

It was then Arthur noticed his shivering, and the way his hands ran up and down his arms to produce heat.

He shrugged out of his jacket and held it out to him, but the boy shrunk away with a sudden gasp at his stretched arm, as if expecting to be hit, and Arthur stepped back with his hands raised in a placating manner once again. "I'm not going to hurt you. I just thought you might be cold."

The boy inhaled a small, shuddering breath, and Arthur offered the jacket to him again.

His small hands reached out and accepted it, pulling it towards himself.

"I'm Arthur," he said, smiling a bit as a reassuring promise that he was harmless.

The boy's gaze lifted tentatively, and settled on him.

"Merlin," he whispered softly, hesitance flickering in his features. "I'm Merlin."

* * *

_No flamers. Constructive criticism is welcome though. Please, let me know what you think._


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I actually updated a story within a month's time? Shocker! *laugh*

I hope you enjoy the story. Main focus is, as always, the bromance. :)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own anything except the story. The dialogue between Uther and Halig is not mine, except for a few parts.

* * *

**Chapter One**

"Mer_lin_," Arthur drawled, as if testing what it sounded like on his tongue, narrowing his blue eyes in contemplation. Then he looked back at the boy and smiled. "Well, Merlin. I suppose I must go now, as it is nearing midnight. I'll be back in the morning with some candles and food. I hope you'll be alright until then?"

Merlin paused, staring at him, before giving a small nod, tightening his grip around the jacket as if afraid Arthur would change his mind and snatch it back from him.

If Arthur had noticed that, he didn't say or do anything except turn to leave after the response. But he was then stopped by Merlin's quiet and small voice piping up behind him.

"Thank you."

Arthur looked back, and with a soft smile, he gave one slight nod in reply to his gratitude.

**...**

The servant of the day tottered around in his chambers, organizing items, making the bed, collecting laundry. He was a timid young boy, probably almost as old as Merlin, Arthur compared, with blonde hair and brown eyes. The boy was fidgety when he had nothing to do, playing with his sleeves as he stood in the middle of the room until Arthur gave him all the orders. He also seemed to jump about a feet in the air should Arthur ever make the _mistake_ of trying to engage him in conversation at times.

He wondered if it was partially due to his reputation for short temper and his tendency to overwork all the people who had ever had the honor of being his personal manservant. Perhaps it were those reasons why they all seemed to quit within a few months...

"Williams," Arthur said, and as he suspected, the boy hopped up about eleven inches in the air and dropped the item he was holding, which happened to be a flower vase as the pieces scattered all over the floor. He closed his eyes, his head flopping back on the chair, and tried to reign in his exasperation.

"S-sire, I-I apo - "

Arthur held up a hand to silence him, closing his eyes and pursing his lips with restraint. "It's alright," he forced out, clearing his throat.

"I'll c-clean it up," the boy offered.

"Yes. But first, I'd like another plate of food from the kitchens. I'm feeling more hungry than usual today," Arthur lied, the image of Merlin's nearly emaciated body filtering in through his mind as he said so.

"Yes Sire," the boy said, bowing his head as he spun on his heel and practically fled from the chambers.

**...**

Halig entered the court with a few knights trailing behind.

Uther glanced up for a second, before looking back down at the parchment he was writing on. "Ah, Halig. You've come bearing gifts?" Uther asked.

"Yes, Sire. A sorcerer boy. But he escaped here last night in Camelot," Halig answered solemnly, his hands clasped behind him.

"Well, don't worry," Uther said without looking up. "We'll soon find him. Have some guards help with the search."

A knight bowed and exited the room.

Halig rushed forward in anxious haste, leaning toward the king. "You need to warn them, Sire. The boy may be dangerous. The informer told me he is not the same as all the other sorcerers."

"How so?"

"He was born with his powers, Sire. His magic is instinctive, and can be activated without any enchantments. And he has little to no control over it. I was told he almost killed an entire room of men once."

"Set up sentries on all the gates," Uther ordered.

"We should search the lower town, Sire. Someone may be harbouring him."

"You think she had help?" Gaius questioned.

"I saw two figures running away," the Bounty Hunter answered.

"Give Halig all the help he needs. I want this boy and his accomplice found."

**...**

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered to the sleeping boy. When he didn't show any signs of hearing his call, the prince reached his hand out and touched his shoulder.

The reaction was instantaneous. Merlin jerked up from the floor with a gasp, scrambling back into the wall.

"Woah," Arthur said, holding up his hands. "It's alright, Merlin. It's just me. Just Arthur."

Merlin relaxed, a soft sigh of relief passing through his lips, and Arthur wondered what was going through his mind in those first few seconds he awoke. Nothing good, he figured.

"I brought you something to eat," Arthur told him, putting the cloth he gathered the food in on the ground and unfolding it for Merlin to see. "And after you're finished with your food, you could change into these." Arthur placed an entire set of worn clothes beside Merlin, tunic, breeches and other items. They were one of the oldest pairs he still had with him, and the only outfit he could find in his wardrobe that would seem to fit Merlin's skinny form even remotely.

Merlin nodded slightly, swallowing and pulling Arthur's jacket around him tighter. He then reached for the food, breaking them into smaller pieces and eating them with trembling hands as he watched Arthur set the candles.

Arthur tried to start a fire with flint and steel, rubbing them together. Merlin only had to look once before knowing that he probably didn't have much experience with such things.

"M-may I?" he asked quietly, sticking out a hand hesitantly.

Arthur shook his head, his gaze fixed on his work, but his hands were growing frustrated. "Your wrists are wounded. It will put a strain on them."

Merlin nodded.

It was after a few minutes of poor attempts that Merlin slowly, tentatively, raised a palm, lowered to his side as if he didn't want anyone to see it. He closed his eyes, feeling his magic rush through his veins as he aimed it at the candles.

His eyes flashed gold as he opened his eyes, and the fire kindled on the candle, dancing on the wick.

Merlin looked at Arthur, and saw him staring at him with a strange, unreadable expression on his face. And he couldn't stop himself from ducking his head down, his heart suddenly pounding hard and his gut clenching painfully with fear and nerves as he wondered whether he did the right thing or not.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, shaking his head as his blue darted around on the ground. "I'm sorry. I didn't... I'm very sorry. I... I was... I..."

"It's... it's alright," Arthur replied, sounding somewhat uncomfortable at the display of sorcery. Though he didn't agree with his father's reckless execution of anyone even _suspected_ of using magic, it didn't mean that the years of being taught about how evil and wrong sorcery was hadn't affected him at all. Perhaps not much, but at the very least, a slight bit.

Merlin glanced up at him, doe eyes staring at him with fear and distrust and anticipation of something.

Anticipation of pain. Punishment.

"It's really okay," Arthur reassured, somewhat awkwardly, and then looked at the glowing little flames. "At least the candles are lit now."

Merlin bowed his head and smiled slightly at that, a small, shy smile that was still far from being completely comfortable, but a genuine smile nonetheless that made Arthur feel as if he had truly done something right.

"Well," Arthur said, in a tone that indicated that he was changing the topic, as he leaned back against the wall behind him, his knees up in front of him and his arms hanging off on them casually. "I suspect the food was good, Merlin?"

Merlin nodded wordlessly.

"You _are_ allowed to speak, you know?" Arthur joked with a teasing smirk, though not unkindly.

Merlin paused, remaining quiet for a moment, before he hesitantly replied, "Y-yes."

Arthur's smirk grew into a light smile. "That's better."

Silence ensued for a while. Merlin ate his food in small bites, probably because he knew his skinny body might not be able to handle too much after being starved for so long, of which Arthur could clearly see in the bones poking out a bit through his jacket cloaked tightly around the boy's form. He could only imagine the torment the boy must have been forced to live through with the state of him and the bruises and scars peeking out.

"What happened to you?" Arthur asked softly, after a long period of observing Merlin silently.

"Enslavement," Merlin answered quietly, the faintest hint of bitterness in his voice.

"I suppose such cruelty could only be from that," Arthur replied, in a voice matching the quietness of Merlin's, the golden glow of the candle's light cast over his face emphasizing the attemptively-veiled softness and compassion in his blue eyes. His head tilted back until it touched the barricade as he watched Merlin.

"I suppose," Merlin agreed with a nod, his voice still low, and took another tiny bite of his bread.

"For how long were you, um..." He cleared his throat slightly and raised a hand, and then waving it towards Merlin in a vague gesture. "Kept in slavery?" Arthur questioned, uncertainty and hesitance that didn't belong on a prince's face flickering in his features as he did so.

"Why all these questions?" Merlin responded with a question of his own, too soft to be noticeable, but Arthur could hear the 'none-of-your-concern' tone in his words.

"I didn't mean to pry," Arthur amended, as close to an apology as he could. "I was merely wondering."

Merlin glanced up at him, before looking back down at the half-eaten food contritely. "I'm sorry."

"I'm sure I've heard worse," Arthur dismissed, brushing it off with a shrug of his shoulders.

Merlin slowly put down the piece of bread he was nibbling on, wrapping his arms around his stomach and pulling his legs closer to himself once again, and then he shrugged. "I was caught in the woods using magic without any incants by a slave trader when I was nine. He saw that I wasn't an ordinary magic-user, and he knew that could fetch a great amount of money, so he took me. And ever since then, I was passed around, bought and sold, from one person to another."

"What about your parents?"

A mirthless smile curved the boy's lips, and he looked down at his hands. "I'm sure my mother must have stopped wondering what had happened to me by now."

Arthur paused, before inhaling a sharp breath through his nose.

It must be awful, knowing your family had no idea what happened to you or where you were, spending days and nights realizing that there would be no one there to save you because they probably didn't even know whether you were alive or dead. And what about his mother? How terrible it must be for her, finding out one day that her son had disappeared without her having any idea of his whereabouts, asking herself over and over and searching for an answer in all these years of what might have happened to her son.

"I'm sorry," Arthur said softly, his eyes sincere and his words genuine.

Merlin swallowed, closing his eyes and exhaling a large, shaky breath. "My previous master deemed me useless after a while," he continued, "And then sold me to Master Halig, the Bounty Hunter."

"Why would the Bounty Hunter buy you just so he could sell you again?"

"For even more money," Merlin answered quietly, his small, hunched shoulders bouncing lightly again as he stared down at his hands.

Arthur took all the new relevations in with a deep breath, filling down to the bottom of his lungs, and then released the air out through his nose, his lips tightening in disgust at the actions of such greedy men.

Arthur processed through all the information for a moment, before something caught his attention, and a question roused in his mind.

His thoughtful, distant gaze returned back to Merlin. "What did you mean when you said you weren't an ordinary magic-user?" Arthur vocalized, his eyes knit in confusion and curiosity. "I mean, how is it possible for you to perform sorcery without any incants?"

Merlin stilled, from fear or surprise or both, Arthur wasn't sure. But he could tell by the reluctance in his blue orbs that Merlin didn't want to answer the question, didn't want him to know what it meant.

"I, um... I was born... with magic," Merlin mumbled in response, avoiding his gaze even more than he already was as he ducked his head further down, curling tighter into himself. Arthur knew it was because that fact mustn't really have granted him any kind of respect and kindness by the world, so the hesitance was understandable.

But for a moment, everything felt a bit surreal for Arthur. Years and years of being taught that magic was wrong, that sorcerers were evil, and here he was, having a conversation with and, perhaps, even befriending a magic-user who didn't simply _practice_ sorcery, but was actually _born_ with it.

With those thoughts came dredges of doubt and distrust that had been drilled into him since the very early years of his life.

But then, he looked up at Merlin. Looked up at his doe blue eyes unable to meet his own, his small body full of too many scars and bruises and powers that might have the ability to kill a lot of people in mere seconds, and yet, he was still sitting here in front of him, breathing and alive. He remembered back to the desperate and scared blue eyes following him from the cage, at the genuine gratitude in his quiet 'thank yous' and the small, shy smiles and the fear and shame of himself when he told him that he was born with magic.

And he realized that maybe Merlin wasn't the kind of person who fit the image his father had created in his mind.

Perhaps Merlin was different.

And with those thoughts came relief and contentment.

"I must leave now. People might notice I'm gone, particularly my father," Arthur excused, beginning to get up on his feet with a low groan at the sore muscles of sitting in one position for too long. "But I'll come back. And..." He ran his eyes over the scrawny frame of the boy. "I suppose I'll bring you some more food as well."

**...**

"Where have you been, Arthur? I've been told you haven't shown up for training practice today," Uther asked as Arthur entered the council room.

"I'm sorry, father. I, uh... I got caught up in a few urgent matters," Arthur lied, hoping his father wouldn't ask what those 'urgent matters' exactly were.

"Nevermind. A sorcerer boy had escaped last night," Uther told his son, his authoritative voice the same hard and regal tone. "It is believed that someone is helping him. Thus, it is your duty to find him. Take some guards with you to search around the castle and city. He must be found. He is dangerous to Camelot."

Arthur held back a snort at that. Merlin? Dangerous to Camelot? _He looks like he can't even fight against a bloody puppy..._

"Yes, father," Arthur responded, giving a respectful bow to the king, before taking his leave as he turned on his heel and headed for the doors, a few guards trailing behind.

**...**

He had directed his group of guards in all the directions that were far, far away from the caves. But he knew that was the least of his problems when he saw a few guards along with the Bounty Hunter in front of a line of people, looking for suspects.

His own search party wasn't the only trouble now.

**...**

Arthur moved through the tunnels until he reached his intended location.

Arthur knelt down as he placed another cloth of food on the ground in front of Merlin. "I'm late. But I had a good reason. My - " Arthur stopped as he saw Merlin inhale a sharp, trembling breath and quickly swipe at his red-rimmed eyes, his long eyelashes wet as if he had been crying silently. "What's wrong?'

Merlin shook his head, glancing down at his hands and sniffing slightly.

"You're upset," Arthur said.

"It's nothing," he responded hoarsely, sniffling again.

And then he lifted his head up at him, gazing at him through tender blue orbs as if...

As if he was glad to see him here.

"You thought I wouldn't come back?" Arthur asked softly, causing Merlin to return his gaze back to his hands. He lowered down to settle himself beside Merlin as he looked at him, his head tilted slightly to catch his eyes. "I told you I would, didn't I?"

Merlin sniffled a little once more, and smiled as if he thought himself to be ridiculous, shrugging a bit. "I thought I scared you away... I thought you might have changed your mind about coming."

"I'm think I've seen far more scarier things than you, Merlin," Arthur joked, grinning as he poked his side lightly in a teasing manner, which made Merlin nudge sideways a little and smile again, this time another one of his dimpled and genuine, shy smiles that Arthur found himself growing fond of (and the feeling of doing something truly right filled him up with warmth once again).

It was then Arthur noticed Merlin wearing his old, tattered clothes, and when he looked over him, and saw the clothes he had brought for him still lying where he had left them before. "You haven't changed?"

Merlin followed the direction of his sight, his own gaze landing on the clothes.

**...**

Merlin emerged from behind the wall, practically swimming in Arthur's old clothes. His sleeves reached below his wrists and he bunched them up in his fingers as he fidgeted self-consciously, the tunic hanging off of his bony shoulders and exposing his collarbones, the hemline falling just above his knees, and his trousers were flowing at his ankles, nearly coming underneath his bare heels. His arms were pressed against his sides as if to hold his breeches up, his belt tied clumsily around his waist, and ineffectively as well, apparently.

Arthur laughed at the appearance of the boy, and Merlin blushed.

"You look ridiculous," he commented, grinning widely. And then he walked towards Merlin, stopping in front of him in three steps as stared at the belt with another huff of laughter. "And where in the _world_ did you learn to tie a belt like that?" Arthur teased, reaching up and jerking the knot loose in two tugs, and then he began to tie the belt around Merlin's waist properly.

"I never did," Merlin replied quietly with a low snort.

Arthur's smile faded slowly at those words as his eyes flickered up to Merlin's lowered ones, staring at Merlin silently, before they dropped back down to the belt he was fixing around him. "Of course. I should have known that," Arthur said apologetically.

"It's alright," Merlin absolved lightly in return. "It's nothing big."

Arthur stepped back to admire his handiwork with his hands on his hips, smiling. And then he looked back up at Merlin, removing one hand to wave at his clothes. "What do you think?"

Merlin smiled. "I like them," he said softly, quiet awe and happiness in his mellow eyes as he stared down at them.

But then his lips curled in a faint, forlorn smile as he stared wistfully at his new clothes, raising his hands towards the front of the tunic and taking a grasp of it. "But I don't deserve them," he said, a little above a sad whisper.

Arthur moved slightly closer, placed his hands on his shoulders, and then leaned forward to catch his gaze, causing Merlin's head to lift up a little, his doe eyes watching him. "Too bad," he said, shrugging one shoulder with a smile. "Because they're yours now."

* * *

I'd love to know what you thought in your reviews! :)

No flamers. Constructive criticism is welcome, but be polite, please.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Merlin had only ever had one friend in his life.

He had met Will while he was owned by a man named Durac. He didn't know how old he was at the time as the knowledge of time was a luxury he could never have. He could never see the morning blue skies, could never watch as it gently faded to darkness until night fell and the entire world slept, another day gone by. For him, it was something that passed away in loneliness and screams and tears and whip lashes and bruises and broken bones and starvation and thirst.

However old they were, they both seemed to be of the same age by the looks of their appearance. They couldn't remember how long it had been since they had been ripped away from their families and taken hostage by the life of prisoners and enslavement and suffering and adversary.

But none of that mattered.

Because during their time in that unforgiving, barbaric place with Durac's ruthless brutality and cruel punishments, where their bodies were whipped until their skins were in shreds, where they were beaten relentlessly until they were bruised and battered all over and starved unsparingly until they were begging for mercy; where they were yelled at with vulgar, savage words that no one should ever hear in their lives until they were shoving their hands over their ears and screaming as loud as they could just so they wouldn't have to hear them again...

During that time, they were each other's hope. They were the ones who held the other when they were too broken to hold themselves together, in the darkest of days and nights. Placed a hand on the other's hands and arms and shoulders and backs and promised them false hopes of being free someday and comforted them with white lies and gentle reassurances. They made each other laugh after a hundred tears shed and, somehow, made each other forget that they were just two insignificant and worthless souls enslaved to a life of being bought and sold from one man to another, just until it all went too far one day.

Because in those moments, they were important. They were valued and loved and meant something to someone, and they thought that, even if they would die somewhere in this life of torture and anguish.

Maybe it'd be okay.

As long as there was a friend beside him when it happened.

...

"I've only ever had one friend before," Merlin blurted out.

Arthur removed his gaze from the candles he was setting on the ground, as the prior ones had burned out, to glance at Merlin. He smiled at him before focusing his eyes back on the task at his hand, but he still paid more than half of his attention to the young boy. "Really? What's his name?" he asked, glad that Merlin had a friend at least once during the horrible hardships he had gone through.

"Will," he said softly, smiling, with a sense of affection and yearning for a friend too far away from him in his large blue eyes.

"Will," Arthur repeated with a small nod of acknowledgement. "Well, where is he now?"

The answer he received was the last one he expected.

"He's dead."

Arthur froze, his mind numbing for a moment with shock.

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked up at Merlin, who was staring at him, fingers tangled together as he fidgeted with them. He swallowed slightly and sent a hesitant, flickering smile in his way, with the underlying tones of sadness and longing.

"They killed him. Poisoned his food," Merlin continued, looking down at his twisted and trembling fingers. "I held him when he died."

"I'm sorry," Arthur condoled sincerely, his expression earnest.

"Don't be," Merlin replied softly, a little above a quiet whisper as he shook his head slightly, lifting his head up at him. He smiled, a mellow and sorrowful curl of his lips, sniffing as a thin haze of tears glinted in his wide, childlike eyes. "He told me he was going to be free."

Arthur sighed and nodded slowly in understanding. He could only imagine the pain of a slave's life. Living in imprisonment and being tormented every single day of your life, with no control over your own choices and body because you were owned by someone else. He didn't know what it felt like, but he knew it must be beyond bearable. "But he was also your only friend."

Merlin smiled a little more. "I have you now."

Arthur, for the second time, stilled at Merlin's response.

"You think of me as your friend?" he said, surprise and awe creeping into his tone. He sounded more as if he was musing to himself rather than asking Merlin the question.

Of course, he had considered Merlin to be a friend. But he wasn't sure if the boy had felt the same. He had figured, after everything he had been through, it would take Merlin a long while to be ready to give him his friendship and trust, which would have been undoubtedly justified according to Arthur.

The people who had endured the abuse that Merlin had were divided into two kinds. Some were those that, understandably, lost all ability to hold trust and hope and faith. Some were those who clung to the closest one they could find.

Arthur was glad Merlin was in the latter.

Upon hearing the bewildered question, Merlin seemed to grow questioning of his beliefs. "I...I just... I thought that's what we were n-now..." Merlin stammered, swallowing. "Weren't we?" His eyebrows knit in uncertainty as well as a bit of disappointment, worry and fear.

Disappointment of the thought that perhaps they weren't friends. Worry that he might have assumed wrong. Fear that Arthur didn't want to be friends with him. All these thoughts associated with the emotions were written clearly in his expression.

Merlin opened his mouth, most probably to take it all back and apologize.

But Arthur didn't allow him the chance.

"I suppose we are," Arthur said, smiling lightly.

He reveled in the warm feeling that Merlin's beaming smile at him brought.

...

"Have you found the sorcerer boy?" Uther inquired from his position in the council chair.

"No, My Lord," Arthur answered, standing tall and straight with his chin up high as a prince should, even though he was exhausted. Running around the castle all the way from his chambers to the tunnels about three times a day did take a lot out of him, leaving him spent and sapped of energy. Not to mention the fact that he also slept late these nights in order to tend to Merlin.

But he knew that it was all worth it.

"If I may propose a possibility; perhaps the sorcerer boy had escaped the city, My Lord," Arthur hypothesized, hoping that his father would accept it and leave it at that, which would make this situation far easier.

"Perhaps so," Uther replied, somewhat agreeably, and Arthur's heart jolted with excitement and joy. But then sunk low at the next words. "But the guards have seen no one leave the city for the past few days."

"It might be a trick of their sorcery. The sorcerer boy _was_ said to be powerful."

"But he was also said to have little to no control over his powers," Uther responded nonchalantly, his eyes focused on the parchment he was writing on.

Halig watched from the sides, observing as the prince attempted to detour every probability of the sorcerer boy still residing in Camelot and, essentially, his chances of being caught and found.

And he felt his suspicions begin.

...

Arthur pulled back the hood of his cloak, lowering down to sit across from Merlin on the ground. "Sorry, I'm late. My father was interrogating me once again."

"About what?" Merlin asked, his brows raised and his eyes large with question and curiosity.

"About you," Arthur replied, shrugging. "I tried to convince him that you have probably escaped from Camelot, but he seemed to have an answer for every one of my 'theories'." He smacked his head back against the wall, rolling his eyes exasperatedly and letting a whoosh of breath out from his mouth.

"Your... father?" Merlin repeated slowly, furrowing his brows in puzzlement.

"Yes, my father," Arthur confirmed, his head still tilted back as he stared at him. After a few seconds of watching Merlin ponder while making confused expressions, he pushed himself off the wall and leaned forward. "My father? The King of Camelot?"

Merlin's gaze snapped up at him, staring at him with an emotion resembling horror. The way his eyes proceeded to bug out was almost comical. "Wait, what?"

"What do you mean, what?" Arthur questioned with some bewilderment of his own.

"Your father's the... you're the prince?"

Arthur paused for a moment, going through all his memories and searching for a time when he had mentioned this about himself to Merlin, and came up blank. He realized he hadn't said a single word about this to Merlin.

"I, um... I may have forgotten to tell you...?" Arthur trailed off sheepishly, making it sound more like a question than a statement as he scratched his cheek in an awkward, embarrassed manner.

"I don't understand," Merlin whispered, his brows pinched. He shook his head slightly as he locked his eyes on Arthur's face. "Why are you so good to me?"

"What?"

"You, of all people... you have even less of a reason. And yet, you still... you take care of me like no one other than Wil had," Merlin said, still a light, shaky whisper. He swallowed, a thin sheen of wetness glazing his eyes as he struggled not to crumble. "Why?"

"Because you're the only friend I've ever had," Arthur answered without missing a beat, shrugging a bit. "You told me you've only ever had one friend before. I didn't tell you that I've never had any." He paused, taking a loaded breath, and he smiled a little. "Now, I just want to keep the one I have alive."

Arthur thought he should be uncomfortable at his own display of emotion, but was pleasantly surprised to know he felt completely at peace in his friend's presence and companionship. He trusted Merlin more than he had trusted anyone in his life, and he wondered if it was possible for someone to have such an effect on him, especially after only a few days of knowing each other.

For a long while after his speech, Merlin simply stared at him, causing Arthur to feel slightly awkward under the scrutiny, and he wondered whether he had somehow made an offensive mistake in the things he had said.

But then he saw Merlin's lips curve into a watery smile, and he knew he had said the right words.

Arthur shifted, placing his elbows on his knees as he leaned a little more forward. "With you, I could just be who I am," Arthur confided, smiling. "I don't have to be Prince Arthur here. I could just... I could just be Arthur."

The dents in Merlin's cheek deepened as the arch of his lips widened, reaching his slightly moist eyes and crinkling the corners. It was the kind of smile Arthur had been wanting to see.

"Never met anyone like you." Arthur chuckled quietly, but his soft, affectionate eyes held sincerity at those words.

Merlin's smile couldn't get any bigger and sappier, but nonetheless, Arthur's chest swelled with warmth at the sight of it.

The sound of wood banging followed by rough rustling alerted them to the arrival of intruders, numerous boots thudding against the ground as shouts and orders echoed throughout the tunnels. Arthur's heart jolted in his chest.

He knew exactly who that voice belonged to.

Halig.

"How did they find us?" Arthur whispered, his eyes large with shock under his pinched brows. He felt the heavy pressure of his pounding heart against his sternum, but he managed to snap himself out of his shock and reached for Merlin's thin wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. "Come on!"

He tugged the boy up on his feet and, still clutching his wrist, ran.

...

Merlin's veins filled with cold dread the moment he heard the voice of his master, causing his heart to pound heavily against his chest. The hard beats thumped in his ears as they turned corners and ran, but he noticed when the voices went silent, save for the sounds of walking boots in search of them.

His trembling hands scrabbled frantically against Arthur's shirt as he slid down the wall, searching for soothe and comfort, for something to hold onto, to ground himself into in order to not fall apart at all the thoughts racing in his mind. He grasped a handful of the tunic on his shoulder, swallowing down the distressed sobs and tears pushing against his throat and his eyes, begging to be let out. The icy terror that filled his head with whispers of torture and agony that forced him to consider everything that could go wrong in that moment was something he had felt so many times throughout his life, almost every day, and he should have been used to it by now, but he wasn't.

It still consumed him whole until he could hear nothing but the pelts of fright in his ears, feel the hard pounds of panic against his sternum; the violent twist of trepidation in his stomach; the fear in his throat choking him and constricting his lungs until he was left gasping for air.

Merlin closed his eyes and tried to breathe, burying his mouth against Arthur's shoulder in an attempt to muffle and quiet the harsh sounds. He was already on the verge of breaking down, because they were going to find him. They were going to find him and take him away from Arthur, and they were going to put him back in that cage and call him worthless and a monster and tell him that he'd never be loved by anyone and then they'd give him to the King and he'd -

Merlin shook his head against Arthur, his mouth twisting upward as he thrust a fist between his mouth and Arthur's shoulder, struggling to breathe without sobbing.

"They're going to find me," he whispered anxiously, pushing his face further into Arthur's shirt. "They're going to find me, I..." He choked and sobbed, shaking his head frantically. "I don't want to go back. I don't want to go back to that cage. I can't. I can't..." His voice cracked and he swallowed hard, his eyes still squeezed shut as his features crumpled fully and the tears leaked free from underneath his eyelids, streaming down his cheeks. "I don't want to die." It came out as a strangled, harsh gasping sob that wracked his entire, abused body; ripped out from the deepest, most agonized parts of his wounded and oppressed soul.

"I don't want to die." _Not when I 've just found a reason to live again._

...

"I won't let that happen," Arthur whispered, feeling Merlin tremble next to him. His heart burned with sorrow and pain at the sight of him; the first glimpse of his broken years in the past. It was there in front of him, in his friend's tearful and red-rimmed eyes, clear as the sky. "I won't. I'll look after you, like Will had once. I won't let them hurt you." He shifted closer, wrapping an arm around his back and tightening his grip. "I promise."

He watched Merlin silently as he sniffed, still trembling against him. His swollen and wet blue eyes slowly revealed themselves open as they looked up at him hesitantly, feeling his thin, quivering fingers tighten slightly on his tunic. He inhaled a breath in shakily and swallowed hard, his throat bobbing visibly. "M' a m-monster. I've hurt people," he whispered quietly, his voice broken and tight as fresh tears welled up in his ashamed eyes again.

"Monsters don't call themselves monsters for hurting people," Arthur replied softly, no uncertainty in his words. Looking at Merlin right now, in this very moment, he knew there was nothing else that he could believe. The purity and innocence of his soul, his humanity, shone out brightly like the candles in his hands, chasing away any shadows of doubt and fear and distrust that he still might have held.

And all there was left was compassion and affection and faith. A sense of something definite settling inside him, like a fitting puzzle piece.

He reached up and brushed a hand over his friend's hair soothingly. "Monsters don't feel remorse for it."

Merlin swallowed, staring at him deeply through a tearful gaze, as if trying to gauge something. Trying to understand.

Until something seemed to fit. Something definite.

Like a puzzle piece.

And the next thing Arthur knew, he had his arms full of Merlin, all skin and bones against him. His arms clutched around his neck tightly, his small chest stuttering against his own as hitched breaths and strangled sobs filled his ears. His shoulders shook with his cries against the sides of Arthur's neck, his mouth trembling against his skin as his tears soaked his shirt.

Arthur slowly wrapped his own arms around the narrow waist, pressing him closer as he tightened his grip around him, feeling a heavy ache in his chest and a deep need to take away the sounds of his friend's pain.

He held him tight, knowing there was nothing he could do.

They remained like that for a long while, just until Merlin pulled himself together as the sobs and trembles abated. Arthur released him as he slowly drew back from him, smudging the wetness on his cheeks as he attempted to wipe them away. His breaths still shuddered lightly through his nose and his hands still shook a bit, but he seemed better otherwise.

"Are you alright now?" Arthur asked him softly.

Merlin nodded and swallowed, his gaze flickering up towards him.

"Arthur?" Merlin said quietly.

"Hm?"

Merlin smiled, his eyes soft. "I've never met anyone like you either."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope you all like it! I hope it was sweet and sad, and it lived up to your expectations. :) Also, I know that Arthur's a bit OOC in the story (He's too nice, isn't he? LOL!) but I would think that, under the circumstances, it's understandable. I can't see Arthur acting in any other way towards a person coming from Merlin's place here. I hope you all find it alright! :)

Thank you all so much for the support! The wonderful reviews (I had 21 in the last chapter! *collapses* Thank you, thank you, thank you so much!) the tags, the reads, I'm very, very grateful for all of it. They mean so much to me! You're all awesome. *hugs*

The credits for the wonderful story cover goes to Wilma from THoC. Thank you so much! *hugs*

No flamers. Constructive criticism is welcome! Let me know if I'm doing anything wrong, but please be polite. :)


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